Filling In
by k4writer02
Summary: While Coach and Henry Saracen are away, Matt fills in. In the days leading up to Julie’s Sweet 16, Matt thinks about their relationship, life in Dillon, and what could happen when his father comes home. An entry in the While You Wait Fic Exchange


Title: Filling In

Author: Kate, k4writer02

Recipient: Joe, thatdudejoe

Summary/Prompt used: While Coach and Henry Saracen are away, Matt fills in. In the days leading up to Julie's Sweet 16, Matt thinks about their relationship, life in Dillon, and what could happen when his father comes home. An indirect take on Julie's sweet 16 and Matt's dad returning home after State. There's gold, surprises, and ice cream, too.

Rating: R—Mentions of physicality/ sexuality.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoying reading it and that this is what you were looking for!

******Words: 5,444**

Early February in Dillon—it's cold, but the sun's out, and the sky looks as blue as a robin's eggshell, as clear as heaven. Amethysts, diamonds and gold sparkle in advertisements and jewelry store cases. There are pink and red paper hearts and white doilies pasted around schools and stores and restaurants.

It's off-season for football, but basketball is stoking up, and wrestling has its day too. Slammin' Sammy Meade is on the a.m. radio, talking Panther Hibernation, with less enthusiasm than he talks Panther football. But still. The Panthers are in a game, Sammy's on the radio, there's a new coach on the way, and it's almost Valentine's Day.

All's right with the world, or as right as it gets.

Though it's the basketball team's season, the rally girls are still looking starry eyed at the state champs. Riggins always has admirers (except for that brief time when everyone hated him on Jason's behalf), so that's no different. And now that Waverly has gone away to Africa again, Smash has all the honeys he could ask for. Girls flirt with Brett and Bradley and Anton and Tyronn, and the boys flirt back gleefully (especially when Brett and Tyronn's girlfriends aren't around). Even the boys who ride the bench and never have their moment of glory under the lights don't lack for female company.

A few girls flirt with Matt aggressively, making clear they're willing to do favors to Dillon High's god. But Julie wears her necklace all the time, and Lois makes it her business to launch some guerilla-gossip campaign to make clear that Matt Saracen is taken. Tyra puts a little oomph behind it, and since Matt himself is disinterested, the girls back off. So QB1 has the (ex-) Coach's daughter, but it's less of a cliché than it sounds.

It's the greatest time of Matt's life, to date, and actually, that has nothing to do with football. In some ways, his life is exactly like it was before he stepped up to be QB1 of the Dillon Panthers and led them to State. Grandma is a bit loony; Dad's in Iraq; Mom's so long gone he doesn't even think about her anymore. He gets his ass kicked in off-season conditioning. The Saracen family still needs the money, so he puts in his hours at the Alamo Freeze, serving ice cream and cokes. He hangs with Landry in his free time. All that is the same.

But things are different too. Because he cares about football and Julie. Because he is QB1 now, and the off season doesn't change that like he thought it would. Strangers stop him on the street to shake his hand, to congratulate him and tell him he did them proud. Sometimes he hates it because the one person who matters most doesn't think this is an occasion that warrants pride. Or praise. But sometimes he kind of likes the attention, too, even when it embarrasses him, because while Henry has never said he is proud, he's also never said that he isn't. And Matt has an active imagination. He can pretend that his dad is waiting to tell him those words when he comes home.

Matt's got Dad's homecoming dreamed out a bunch of different ways. In one, Matt meets his dad at the bus station and "I'm proud of you, son" is the first thing Henry says, and the words are for Matt and Matt alone. Not even Grandma or Julie hears them.

In another daydream, his dad surprises him by being there at the ring ceremony or the first game of next season—some big public affair with all the families and players and fans cheering. Mitch Street gives Jason his ring, and Henry Saracen is there to hand his son a state ring. And when he does it, when Henry passes that weight to his only son, he says it loud, in front of the whole town, and everyone hears and cheers for them while they hug. But Matt thinks that if it came to that, either he or his dad would die of embarrassment before the words got all the way out. So he doesn't dwell on that one too much. Matt's not really an exhibitionist, after all. He doesn't like living his life in public.

In his favorite proud-dad dream, though, they're having dinner, him and Dad and Grandma, all at home. And they're eating his favorite dinner—Grandma's pot roast, lots of carrots and potatoes, lots of juicy gravy. And sweet cornbread baked in a cast-iron skillet, for soaking up that gravy. And it's all made the way Grandma used to make it, before she started forgetting things, like whether she added salt, or what she's making. And in his dream, it's totally normal, a family at home with one another. Physically at home, sure, but also comfortable with each other, knowing and understanding each other. Matt asks for more bread or something, and Dad hands it to him, and they look at each other, and they don't need words. Matt just knows, deep inside, without words, that his dad thinks he's a man, who's doing his community and family proud. And that's enough. He looks for the feeling, in his father's eyes, when they video conference at the school, but the link isn't really clear enough to show him that detail.

Of course, not all the strangers want to say "fine job." A fair number of them start pestering him about the future. They ask him what he thinks about the team for next season. Ask him about the head coach rumors. About who'll be first string. On one memorable occasion, a woman his mother's age stopped him while he and Julie were Christmas shopping and asked him "Settle a bet for me, sweetheart. Boxers or briefs?" He'd blushed and stammered and shuffled his feet and wished for a black hole to swallow him. Maybe it might've been a degree less awful and 

awkward if Julie hadn't been standing right there laughing at him. She could've answered the question with perfect accuracy, but thank God, he was spared at least that much embarrassment.

Creepy older women aside ('cougars really shouldn't be stalking Panthers,' Julie giggled against his skin later that night), he feels like the king of Dillon. It's one quarter football, and three-quarters Julie. If he's king, it's because Julie is his queen. Maybe Julie doesn't see it—maybe she still thinks it's the cheerleader (Lyla) or the girl who's sex on a stick (Tyra) who controls Dillon's social scene. But she's wrong. Matt and Julie, the artsy kids who listen to Dylan and the Decemberists, stand a good shot to be prom king and queen. Or they would if they were juniors and could go to prom.

Coach is gone to Austin to coach at TMU—and folks are still pissed. Matt is still pissed off, when he's being honest with himself. But he tries to swallow that down. What right does he have to be pissed at Coach? He's (just) a player, while Julie's his daughter. And Mrs. Taylor swears she's okay with it, even when she's handing Matt batteries to change the smoke detector and light bulbs. He does a lot of the little tasks for the Taylors that he does at home—the lawn, that kind of thing. He likes being useful.

Matt and Julie lace their fingers together when they hold hands in the hallways and nothing has ever felt more right than her body beside his. They're not having sex yet, which depresses Matt a little, but he makes himself be patient. She's given him a few handjobs, and while he's gotten his hands on her ass, he hasn't gotten any further into her pants. But she's gone to third base on him often enough that he's edging toward trying oral, at least in his mind. He doesn't really know how to ask for that. Talking about physical stuff still feels awkward. Making out itself is Good. Really Good. Capital G, GOOD.

But talking about it? That's awkward. It's firsts for both of them; she's growing into herself and he wants so much, but he wants her to be ready. He thinks that on Valentine's Day he might get to third base with her. He has high hopes for sliding into home base by the time school lets out. He knows it's stupid to use baseball metaphors when he doesn't even play it, but really, thinking about Julie in terms of tackles, first downs, and touchdowns is just bound to mess him up on the field. Cause if he thinks about Julie's mouth while the ball is in his hands… Only bad things can result. Compartmentalizing, that's the key. He hasn't said anything about his hopes for sliding into home out loud, though. Too presumptuous, and also, no one's business but theirs.

Landry doesn't see it that way, and he continues to offer unsolicited advice, but that's Landry for you. Matt spends more time than he ever expected telling his best friend to shut up about Julie (meaning "stop living vicariously") and refusing to tell any of the boys what he and Julie have (and haven't) done. There's a large part of him—the teenage football player part—that wants to do locker room talk. There's another part—the artist part, the part Julie knows and loves—that likes having secrets between them. Except, when he thinks about it, he's pretty sure Tyra knows more about what he and Julie have done than Landry does. Which is an uncomfortable thought.

Matt's been working extra hours and saving up, because Julie's birthday is the same week as Valentine's Day. He was planning to get one gift for both occasions, but Smash told him that if he ever wanted to get his ass laid, he would have to shell out for two presents. Smash had shaken 

his head like Matt was hopeless and told him, "You go around acting like that—it would be like a girl whose birthday is almost Christmas only getting one present. Everybody does that. No class. No style."

Matt seems to remember that Smash did that to Waverly, whose birthday was December 27. And he got told off for it pretty royally, right before she took off back to Africa or a clinic or where ever. Smash isn't telling the truth about that to anyone. But maybe, just maybe, Smash knows what he's talking about here.

Matt spent hours thinking about what Julie would like (and what he can afford), until he finally settles on the right Valentine's Day gift—a pair of concert tickets for her favorite band—and the right birthday gift—earrings that match the necklace he gave her to apologize for the whole half-naked calendar drama. He'll surprise her with the earrings on her birthday, the tickets on Valentine's Day and the concert itself is during their spring break, a month away. In San Antonio.

On the night of her birthday, he's going to take her to dinner, and then that weekend the big party is going to happen. A lot of her family is coming in from out of town, and he's pretty sure every kid she's ever mentioned liking is invited. Her mom's only half nuts about it, which is pretty good, since Mrs. Coach loves parties but tends to stress out when she's having one at her house. So to make everything easier, they're renting some space at a hotel. It's being catered, even, which they can do because Coach is making way more money at TMU.

Julie and all her friends have this thing PLANNED—Matt thinks that Lois's recent addiction to "My Super Sweet 16" can only be disastrous. He says as much when he's drafted into putting together party favors one Saturday, with Julie and the girls. Tyra laughs, "That's right, Matty, complain all you want. Just don't stop tying those pretty bows."

Matt rolls his eyes a little and wishes Tyra had never picked up Smash and Tim's nickname for him. Mrs. Taylor comes in then, with shopping bags and snacks. She kisses the top of Julie's head, greets her daughter's friends, starts showing off some baby things she bought. Tyra is the most responsive—and knowing what he knows about the attack (even though it has not been spoken of since Landry's confession just after the Mudbowl), that makes some sense. All the girls except Julie coo over a yellow Winnie-the-Pooh onesie. To a stranger, Julie just seems a little…bored, or something. Matt knows her better than that.

Julie talks to Matt about how she feels and what she thinks and her past and her future and even the present. His girlfriend is addicted to words. She eats, breathes, and sleeps words. Meaning, he's seen her eat alphabet soup, and she can't seem to exhale without talking, and that one time when she fell asleep during a movie, she talked in her sleep. Nonsense words, of course, but there they were. She says them, she writes them, and she seems to need them. Matt doesn't really need to talk that much. He likes listening to her, and he likes the way she listens to him, but he's not like her. It's easier for him to just let the words wash over him than to make his own. Julie is furious that her dad is gone and glad that she's still here (that they listened to her for once), and she's kind of confused and uncertain about how everything is changing. She thought 

staying in Dillon would make everything stay good, but time keeps running. It shows through the holidays and marking periods and growing changes.

It shows most of all in Mrs. Taylor. Some of the guys mouthed off about Coach getting it on with her, but Matt tries not to hear stuff like that. He's getting pretty good at not hearing what he doesn't want to hear, if it comes to that. Mrs. Coach has started to wear loose, flowing shirts. They're supposed to cover her belly (which is thickening, but hasn't really "popped" in that pregnant woman's way.) The shirts show that her breasts are fuller, since her pregnancy, so Matt tries not to look.

And Julie's in her last week of being fifteen. She's not enthusiastic about her future sibling. It's partly embarrassment at this evidence that her parents, well, do it. But Tami's tired in the afternoons and she sleeps a lot, which gives Julie lots of free time. Which is a perk.

Mrs. Taylor has a sister in Dallas, which is three hours from Austin and four hours from San Antonio. Julie's told him that ever since she was eight years old, Aunt Shelley has promised that for her sixteenth birthday, Shelley is going to bring her to visit San Antonio. They're going to shop and eat and go to parties along the Riverwalk. And when she's twenty-one, Shelley is going to buy her a fishbowl margarita there. And since she's told Aunt Shelley all about Matt, he's invited to San Antonio too, for all of spring break week, Aunt Shelley's treat.

Julie was breathless and flushed a little pink when she invited him. He had hesitated, wanting it so bad. But reality infringed, "Ah…I just don't think I can leave my grandma that long."

Julie'd looked stunned. She knew it already of course; it was a fact of their relationship, that Matt had to arrange for someone to take care of his Grandma. But Julie tended to forget every now and then. She had that luxury, of being able to forget. And sometimes that irritated Matt, and then he felt guilty for letting it get under his skin because of course he didn't want Julie to understand family and duty like he did. He wanted her to stay innocent.

But she was so disappointed about the trip that a reckless question popped out, "But what about when we go to college? Are you going to be able to leave her alone then?"

She's talking about the future in terms of a "we," and he can't tell her he doesn't really expect to go to college in the same time frame as she does. That's for boys with money. No, Matt will pay for college by enlisting in the US Army. He'll be the fourth generation of Saracens to join up, but he's going to be the first to refuse to go career. He'll enlist, and after his tour, that's when he'll go to college.

And somehow, he just doesn't see Julie in that future. She's too smart, too ambitious, too much her mother's daughter to be an army wife. That moment—the idea that maybe they don't have a future, that Julie's going somewhere he can't follow—it fills his gut with a hollow, panicky feeling. He can feel sweat start to prickle all over his body.

He can't tell her that, knows he doesn't have words to make her understand. He stammers something about getting someone for a long weekend He's working on arrangements for Grandma that don't involve Landry, cause he's going to need Landry and his car to get to San Antonio at all. He's trying to talk Tyra into it, since his grandma likes her so much. But it's not like Tyra really owes him anything, and that's a big damn favor to ask anyone.

The other reason he won't go for the whole week is that if Mrs. Taylor heard that he would be there, that'd be the end of Julie's big trip and Matt is so not getting between Julie and her Mom. Julie's gratitude for getting to stay in Dillon is wearing thin, and they're fighting more.

So things are coasting right along, when Mrs. Coach drops a bombshell that blasts their happy little San Antonio plan out of the water. It starts off simple enough. Matt is at Julie's house, at the kitchen table with her, doodling while she writes something or other. They've thought about ordering pizza for dinner or something, but haven't done it yet. Mostly, it's just good to sit pressed next to her. Her mother wanders in, still wearing work clothes, but her hair shows she's been lying down. She stops kinda sudden when she sees Matt, then puts on an extra-warm, extra-bright smile. "Well hello there, Matt, I didn't know you were coming over tonight."

"I invited him," Julie pouts and Matt has this uncomfortable sensation that he's being placed between an unstoppable force and an immovable object. "Is that still allowed?" Matt starts to reach for his jacket when Mrs. Taylor sighs.

"Stay." She says, kinda sharp. "I don't appreciate your tone, but you know your friends are welcome."

Julie sighs a quick, "Sorry."

Mrs. Taylor nods. "I'll just start to cook dinner. Should be ready by seven."

Matt and Julie go back to "homework." Mrs. Taylor starts clattering around, pulling out this and that, seemingly at random. Soon enough, dinner smells kind of weird, even to Matt, and he'll eat just about anything. Chicken is in the microwave, defrosting. Julie winces as her mother begins whisking Tabasco and mustard together, topped liberally with ketchup. "Food cravings." She mouths, and Matt looks on, wide-eyed. Are they actually supposed to eat that?

Water's boiling for rice noodles, a departure from her usual pasta and rice and bread. Last week, she went to a specialty store three towns away because she wanted them so badly. Only she's ignoring the directions and cooking them wrong, so they're all sticking together in one big clump. Matt's stomach is starting to hurt, cause this meal is starting to seem like something Grandma would cook in a bad spell. When the canned pineapple comes out to join the chicken and noodles and Tabasco-mustard-ketchup combination, Julie leaves to go to do something in her room. Matt stays where he is, mute, but feeling kind of horrified.

When she's gone, Mrs. Taylor turns, "So Julie tells me y'all have Valentine's Day plans." Her voice is interested, but she looks tired.

"Y-yes ma'am." He answers. "We're uh—we're going to eat dinner. At uh, the café place. Julie likes it."

Mrs. Taylor nods. "And for her birthday?"

It's not so easy to be romantic in Dillon when you're sixteen and just this side of broke. It's even harder to be creative. "The organic market does vegetarian dinners once a month. Happens to be our night."

Tami doesn't look especially pleased. "Vegetarian? Julie's not a vegetarian." The question 'is she?' hangs in midair. She's probably just mentally reviewing the party menu and wondering if Julie's going to mess up all her plans at the last minute, but Matt squirms.

"Well, no, but, uh, they read poetry and sing and stuff after. And there's paintings up. And well, there's candles and…"

"The pot. Damnit." Mrs. Taylor says. She could be talking about the cooking implement she's just moved to a different burner because it's boiling over, but he tends to think she's talking about the other kind of pot.

Matt blinks like he never imagined that possibility. "N-no." He mumbles. "No, just, she likes to talk, and it's lots of things she likes and it might be fun. And I'm gonna bring flowers." This, Landry and Smash agreed, was very important, and Matt was taking their word.

Tami takes pity on him. "Tulips are her favorite." She smiles a little, "Or maybe they're mine. Have you ever heard the story, of when Julie was born?"

Matt shakes his head, "No ma'am."

"Eric—," She catches herself, "Coach Taylor and I were real young, just starting out, only been married a year. I'd been working at a preschool, but then we found out Julie was coming and that was that. The day she was born…" She trails off, and Matt shifts, curious to hear more. She starts talking again while she peels a carrot, which she cuts into sticks and puts in front of him as a snack or something. "He brought me a cactus. Can you believe it?"

Matt grins a little at the thought, because yes, he can.

"We still have the cactus. Well, really, Julie does. She keeps it in her room." Tami said. "It's only flowered once, but it's still alive. But I'll never forget it, how he looked when he came into the room. I was lying in the bed, and they were letting me hold Julie. I thought I might break her, she was so tiny. Seemed like she was half eyes and the other half voice. From the second she was born, she was trying to see everything there was to see, and tell me about how she felt," Tami laughed a little. "Or maybe, that's me looking back. He came in, and I looked up from her, stopped babbling at her. He was holding one hand behind his back, and had this tiny little cactus in the other. He said, 'anyone can bring roses, but my girls, they're tough enough for a cactus." 

She laughs again, "Then he brings the other arm forward and he says, 'And sweet enough for tulips.' He remembered I liked them best."

Tami rests a hand on her belly now, in this unconscious gesture. Matt is kind of jealous that his mother never cared to retell stories about his birth. He doesn't know if his father brought flowers, doesn't know if she stared at him, trying to imagine who he would be in sixteen years. He somehow doesn't think he started trying to talk five minutes after he was born, but he doesn't know for sure. Mrs. Taylor seems to realize how much she's told him. "I'm sorry, Matt, I just keep talking. We'll have something to eat soon. Now how's that precalc? You were worried last week." She splashes a bit of lemon juice into the pan and Matt wonders how that could POSSIBLY appeal. He doesn't say so, though.

"It's good." He says. "I mean, hard, but you know, good. The test went fine. Better than I thought."

"Mmhmm." Tami says, and Matt's not sure if he's talking to his guidance counselor or his girlfriend's mom. "Well, at least it's not that long till spring break. Bet you're looking forward to the time off."

"Yes ma'am," Matt agrees, because he is. "I'm happy about San Antonio, too."

"You're taking a trip?" Tami looks surprised. She stops stirring to look at him.

"Yeah, but only for the weekend. Fiesta's happening." He says, honestly confused. "Didn't Ju-,"

"Five hours is a long way to go for a weekend," She cuts him off to observe. "Who's going with you? Landry? Some of the boys from the team?"

"No. Julie. I'm meeting Julie," He takes in Mrs. Taylor's expression, and wishes he had listened closer when Jules was talking about that plan, because he was pretty sure he thought she knew already. "I thought she told you. She said we were going down to stay with her aunt Shelley, like she always promised."

Tami looks annoyed and sad, "I don't know what my sister promised, but Julie's not going to San Antonio this spring break." She says. "We're going to Austin. As a family."

"I'm sorry, wuh-what?" Matt doesn't stammer around Mrs. Taylor nearly as much as he used to, but moments of stress bring it out.

And of course that's the moment that Julie returns from her room, "I ordered pizza." She announces, "Matt and I are not eating that."

Matt thinks, in order, "thank god," and "what the hell?"

Mrs. Taylor barely reacts to Julie's declaration. Almost like she expected it. "Matt, I don't know what all's been said, but Julie is staying with me. And we are going to Austin, to spend the week 

at TMU. And you know that," Her mother says it to Julie directly. The daughter's mouth is hanging open, and she looks as surprised as Matt feels. So, there's that consolation. "Because it was part of our agreement when we decided to stay in Dillon. We are spending this vacation—and every vacation—with your father, young lady."

"Mom!" Julie exclaims. "No. It's not fair. Aunt Shelley promised! You promised!"

"We already have Fiesta tickets." Matt mumbles, almost against his will.

"What?" "Tickets?" Tami and Julie overlap their words.

Now Matt feels dumb, "It was gonna be a surprise, but since you said we'd be in San Antonio and it's Fiesta week, I got tickets for us. To go to see Julie's favorite band, cause they're playing. I signed up for the email newsletter and they told me,"

Julie gasps a little. "That's so—Matt, that was so thoughtful!"

"Yeah, well," He lowers his eyes. "Woulda been nice."

Mrs. Taylor is showing her frustration quite clearly in the way she's banging pots and serving bowls and spoons. When Matt finally raises his eyes to look at her, Mrs. Taylor is biting her lip, and it's clear she isn't happy. "When's the last time you talked to Aunt Shelley about this?"She asks Julie.

"She promised at Christmas. I reminded her, that she said it when I was little. And she said of course we'd go because you only turn sixteen once."

And without meeting her, Matt realizes that Shelley doesn't keep many promises, but Tami's protected Julie from all of the disappointments of a woman like that. It doesn't mean Tami stopped loving her sister, and she's probably tried to stop expecting anything from her. But you never quite stop being disappointed when the ones you love aren't who you thought. Matt knows that somehow, Julie's going to see this disappointment as her mom's fault. Shelley will escape unscathed, "Well, you know, how far away is San Antonio? From Austin? Like an hour, right? So we could maybe listen to the music anyway." Julie suggests. "Matt could come for just the day."

"It's five hours away." Her mother says sharply. "That's a lot for a day."

"I don't—I don't mind," Matt fudges. Because hell, how's he going to get a car and do all this?

Mrs. Taylor absently drizzles Tabasco-mustard-ketchup-pineapple sauce over the chicken and noodle clump on a plate. He can tell she's unhappy, and on company manners, so she's not saying exactly what she thinks. "Austin's a great city for music. You could visit, and just stay there."

"But we already have tickets." Julie's preparing to be mule like. "And you know that you won't want to see me ALL the time. You and Dad are going to take off at least one night and leave me alone—"

Tami holds up a hand in an 'I can't deal with this gesture,' and to her credit, Julie stops talking. "We'll have this conversation later." Her mother forestalls. "Why don't you finish your homework?"

"It's already done." Julie lies, and walks over to the couch, where she flips on the TV. Mrs. Taylor turns her back on them. Matt stands up—to leave or to join Julie he can't decide. He sees Mrs. Taylor wipe her eyes, like she's avoiding crying. And from the set of Julie's shoulders, he knows she's pretty close to crying too. They do better with a buffer between them. It's been hard on both of them having Coach gone. So instead of leaving, he sets the table. Matt can't do much, but he can stay. Mrs. Taylor smiles at him a little, but somehow it doesn't get all the way to her eyes. The doorbell rings, and their pizza is there, so the three of them sit around the table.

No merciful phone call comes to deliver Matt from this awkward meal, where no one seems to have much they can say. At the end of dinner, he packs his bag. Mrs. Taylor offers them ice cream for dessert, but Matt is a little grossed out from just watching her eat what she cooked for dinner—he didn't even try it, though she laughingly tells him it's better than what she invented during her pregnancy with Julie—that involved combining soy sauce, ranch dressing, and garlic.

Even Julie laughs a little, though it's mostly to say, "That doesn't sound as bad as this smells. Seriously, Mom."

"You need to stop watching Grey's Anatomy." Tami answers. "Seriously."

A temporary détente has been reached, so Matt feels ready to go home to Grandma and his own family. Julie walks him outside. He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then a soft one to her lips. "We'll talk." He promises. "It'll all work out."

"I know." And she's so stubborn, he thinks she just might make it happen. "I'll make sure."

"Your mom loves you." He tells her, and he doesn't think Mrs. Taylor is paying attention, but it can't hurt for her to know he knows this. "I think she just misses—,"

"Yeah, not helping." Julie flips her gold hair over one shoulder. "Wait, you're not on HER side, are you?"

"No, no." He promises. "I just…if I could see my Dad for a week, that'd be pretty cool. And I know you miss him."

Julie softens a little. She always does when Matt talks about his dad. She takes his hands in hers, "Okay, well, even if I have to go to Austin, we are going to that concert. I swear. It's like, the sweetest thing."

"It's not a surprise anymore, though." He leans forward, kisses her again, this time using tongue, "Tomorrow, see you in school." He takes a step back, still holding hands.

"Yeah." She agrees, not letting go. "Tomorrow."

They share one last quick kiss, and he leaves. When he gets home, Grandma is in bed. She left him a pot of hamburger helper on the stove, and all the dishes to wash. He cleans up—washes what's in the sink, leaves them to dry. Does his homework—precalc really could kick his ass if he doesn't watch it. He packs up his books at night, cause there's early-morning conditioning with Street before school tomorrow. On his way to his room, he gathers up newspapers and advertisements, puts them in a trashcan. Gathers up the little coupons Grandma clipped—there's a sale on beef at Albertson's, and avocadoes are 3 for 4. He adds the coupons to an envelope for the purpose, and the other clippings to a folder for the scrapbook.

He falls into bed and sleeps. So ends another day in Dillon, without Coach, without Dad. Matt hopes he's man enough to keep everything together till they come home.


End file.
